Sherlock Imagines

A study in scarlet Part 1 (MoriartyxReader)

Sherlock Holmes; Genius who forgets his twin sister. That's you. The brilliant mind the world has forgotten. At least Mycroft knows you exist. You and Sherlock were identical in every sense of the word, except for your 'physical characteristics'. What I mean to say is, your intellects were matched, if not, you were smarter. You retained thousands of bytes of information, and your mind still raced. As it was now. You were returning from your posh life in America, as a world famous author, and the best forensic anthropologist the FBI had, to visit your twin in London. Mycroft said he was on drugs, again, so you had to come right away. Last time this happened, he quit specifically to prove to you he could. Your were his greatest competition, yet the only person he truly cared for since you were children. He was also your biggest rival, but you cared for him greatly, and would do anything for him. You stepped up to the door of 221B, and knocked three times, the first time quick, the second time with a small pause, and the third with a long pause.
"Who could that be?" An unrecognized voice asked, but you could hear the excited leap from Sherlock.
"Y/N!" He called, swinging the door open, immediately pulling you into a tight embrace. You laughed at his odd behavior, that he'd only have around you as the blond stared at the sight before him, unknowing of what to say. When Sherlock let go, you approached the blond, hand held in front of you.
"Y/n Holmes, a pleasure to meet you." He looked baffled, but politely shook your hand.
"John Watson, so you're..." He couldn't seem to find the words he was looking for, but the flicker between you and Sherlock said it all.
"Yes. I am Sherlock's sister. Twin, actually." John nodded, carefully, still slightly confused.
"We're actually on a case, currently, care to join?" Sherlock offered, hoping that you'd both fall into the usual routine.
"Of course! Why else would I come from solving single murders in the states?" You and Sherlock laughed, both bounding out the door, John following cautiously behind. You seemed like Sherlock in most ways, but a lot nicer. As the three of you exited you took notice to how John paused to stop from running into a child, despite being a meter from him.
"Afghanistan, correct?" You asked quaint and quick. Sherlock smirked at you.
"Yes, child?" You hummed a 'yes' in reply. John was amazed, even Sherlock had to ask first.
"What? How-" His confusion voiced itself, and you chuckled, cutting him off.
"You stopped a meter away from that child, something that became habit from the Afghan war zone. The same way I know your sister's a drunk. What is Harry short for?" John was amazed, and was trying to piece together how you'd know as he entered the taxi.
"Harriet." He answered quaintly.
"How'd you figure it was his sister?" Sherlock asked, clearly intrigued.
"Emotions do prove helpful in some cases, brother dearest. The way he looked at me when I entered. He never assumed you to have a relation such as ours with your sister, most would assume your relationship with your sister would be better than with Mycroft, but clearly he did not, so I can only assume he has a bad relationship with his. Even if he had assumed based on typical behavior, he should've seemed at least a little less concerned to find I was your twin, but he didn't. So, Harriet is having some falling outs with the wife?" You inquired carefully. Sherlock smiled, glad to have his sister back, and that it wasn't his deduction skills that cause you to seem better, rather, it was the situation.

Moriarty watched from a distance, carefully examining who the mystery woman could be. He couldn't peel his eyes away from her, or her gorgeous h/c hair that moved in beat with her flawless stride, the way her lively e/c examined thoughtfully at every given presence.  He watched as she followed not even a step behind Sherlock, like an equal. How she impressed John's goldfish mind. She intrigued Moriarty. Noticing Sherlock and his posse were on the move, he followed them with carefully placed video feeds, all the way to the crime scene. He tried to focus on the task at hand, but his gaze kept going back to her. Who was she, exactly? Sherlock's or John's girlfriend? No, John's just met her. Sherlock's well... Sherlock. Sister? Possibly. He watched the woman with a new sensation, a new thirst. He felt his heart accelerate like that useless Irene's when she fell for Sherlock, his palms felt heavier with flowing droplets. He wasn't even in her divine presence, and she had him hooked. What a rare specimen, indeed...